


Anime Campaign - Prom Night

by Egophobia



Category: Anime Campaign! (Web Series)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 14:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15269037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Egophobia/pseuds/Egophobia
Summary: A couple of years after Naven's defeat, he and Yoomtah attend a school dance in an effort to make up for lost time.





	Anime Campaign - Prom Night

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: I did a bit of bullshitting involving the apparent physical ages of Naven and Yoomtah, I think, because “foreign exchange student” as an anime trope usually means highschool, and Naven’s appearance in the rulebook for Anime Campaign seems young enough, that they could fit in with highschoolers, but I might be wrong. Also I need to go back and watch/rewatch some of the earlier episodes, so it’s entirely possible I’ve hit some lore errors. Regardless, here’s a thing. I hope you all enjoy (notice me senpais).

**ANIME CAMPAIGN**

**INTERMISSION**

**PROM NIGHT**

 

                “Oh goodness, everyone looks so… excited.”

                “Like you aren’t?” Yoomtah asked, grinning up at him. “Now come the fuck on. You can walk and gawk— with me and at me. And give me compliments. Lots of them.”

                Naven couldn’t help the awkward laugh that came naturally as Yoomtah spun on her heels and began marching forward, pulling him along. She spoke a mile a minute, bouncing between conversation topics quicker than he could follow, spinning around to shout and wave to classmates she recognized, and humming to herself. Maybe it was just because he was unused to going out at night, or the shimmery color of the dress she’d picked out for herself, but it was even harder than usual for him to keep track of her outline. She was like a hummingbird in orbit—

                “You’re spaaacing out agaaaain,” Yoomtah sang.

                “Hm?” Naven blinked in surprise and realized that they’d stopped walking. The hotel that the school had rented out for the dance was across the street from them, tall and bright and spilling its pastel golds and greens out over the waterfront like a factory explosion, but Yoomtah was stopping him from stepping off the curb with two of her fingers against the center of his chest. He turned to look at the light for the crosswalk: it was red.

                “Oh, sorry.” He smiled sheepishly. “Would you believe me if I said it was because I simply too dazzled by your salmon-colored dress and ridiculous hair-curls?”

                “Pffft.” Yoomtah glanced over her shoulder as a taxi drove past, a frown racing across her features for just a second before resuming their trademark giddiness. “I mean yeah, of course, but keep going.”

                “Oh very well.” He heaved a mock-sigh and searched the depths of his soul for the absolute corniest lines he could think of and said them all. By the time the light changed, Yoomtah was doubled over laughing while the prom-goers sharing the sidewalk with them tried their best to hide their mixture of embarrassment and amusement. He found himself practically airborne as the bubblegum-haired girl wrapped one arm around his waist and pranced over to the other side before scrambling up the long stone steps to the hotel.

                “How do you do that in heels?”

                “Titanium feet. Can’t feel a thing.”

                “How strong are those heels?”

                “Ahem.” The teacher at the top of the stairs cleared his throat and offered them a smile. “Invitations, Miss Zing?”

                Naven laughed as he saw whatever quip the girl had been preparing just evaporate right out of her mind as she reached into her purse and thrust their invitations at the man. She was grinning ear to ear, and the pair of pretty golden envelopes he’d seen her fawning over for the last few weeks were now irreparably bent between her fingers as she hopped excitedly in place. The kindly old man took them with a chuckle.

                “Alright, get in there.”

                “Hell—” Yoomtah caught herself and gave a quick half-bow to the teacher, who waved the infraction off. “I mean, heck yes! Come on, let’s find a table. Do we get to pick our own table? We need to find Trixie. She wouldn’t let anyone see her dress. I bet it’s green. It has to be green. I’m putting in green contacts if it’s not green.” She turned to him, beaming. “Everyone else will look stupid but you’re already wearing green, so it won’t matter.” She began pulling him towards the enormous gilded doors.

                “Thank you sir,” Naven called out as he was dragged away. The old teacher just flashed him a thumbs-up and mouthed the words “good luck in there.”

                Yoomtah returned him to a proper standing position at the door and brushed him down.

                “Nervous?” she asked.

                “Please,” he nudged her in the shoulder. “I’ve been president of a hugely successful corporation, the head of a terrorist organization, and stood in front of a dozen judges since then.”

                “You’re terrified.”

                “I’m terrified,” he admitted with a smile. “You never got to finish high-school, but I did, a long time ago. I never expected to be at one of these again. It’s first impressions all over again, and now you and all of your friends are going to see how terrible I am at dancing.”

                “Aw, screw ‘em,” she grinned. “They’ve got their own dates to stare at. Only person you need to embarrass yourself in front of is me.” She paused and brushed back an errant curl of bubblegum hair, offering a smile of encouragement. “Ready?”

                “After you,” he said, returning her smile. “Also we’re blocking the door so we really should go inside.”

                Yoomtah just laughed. It was the most beautiful sound in the world, punctuated by the crash of her shoulder-checking the doors in.

 

***

 

The inside of the— Naven had no idea what the name of the venue was, because ever since Trixie and Molly had reintroduced Yoomtah to the idea of senior prom, he’d gone out of his way to stay as far from the subject matter as possible so as not to ruin any of the surprise she was so determined to share with him. Whatever it was called, the hotel was positively lovely. A little gaudy in the school colors, perhaps, the green and gold drapery sat awkwardly atop the dignified old browns of the building, but in that way that fit the flowery, fumbling mood of the occasion. He tore his eyes from the interior of the hall to the corsage on Yoomtah’s wrist. It clashed horribly with the rest of her, an orange and purple and white explosion of wildflowers against the salmon-pink of her dress, and he smiled.

                “What’cha grinning about?”

                “That ridiculous thing on your wrist.”

                “Meh, I like it. It’s got character. Proper coordination is for losers.”

                They followed the red carpet until it stopped at the open doorway to the outdoor dining area, where what looked like hundreds of tables were arrayed around a dance floor. The entire platform jutted out over the water beneath a latticework awning laden heavy with flowers and ivy. Dozens of young people milled about the room, talking excitedly and flitting between pools of candlelight while swaying awkwardly to the mood music, waiting for the event to kick off. After a second, Naven spotted a familiar figure leaning against the railing at the far corner of the platform, looking out over the river, and pointed her out to Yoomtah.

                “TrixieTrixieTrixieTrixieTrixie!” Yoomtah bounded across the room with Naven trailing behind her like a cape as he hung on by one arm. Trixie Roughhouse turned around just as they touched down, and had all of a second to recognize the pair of them in their obnoxious salmon and celery outfits before Yoomtah let go of his hand and picked up the diminutive girl in a bear hug. “TrixieTrixieTrixieTrixie!”

                “Gack! Yoomie! Lungs! Also ribs!”

                “Oops, sorry,” Yoomtah said, quickly setting the girl down and poking and prodding to see if she was okay. After a moment, Trixie flashed a thumbs-up.

                “H-Hey Yoomie, Naven, glad y-you guys could make it.”

                “It’s wonderful to see you again,” Naven said, bowing.

                “You look so cool!” Yoomtah exclaimed.

                Trixie squeaked as everyone around turned to see Yoomtah pointing at her. Naven gave an awkward chuckle and sidestepped to at least shield Trixie from a couple of prying eyes. She gave him a look of gratitude and rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.

                “U-Um, y-yeah. Giovanni and Xerxes heard about the dance, so they um… Xerxes took me shopping to see what kind of dresses I liked, and Giovanni spent like a week trying to one-up all of them.” Trixie managed a small grin through her embarrassment. It was plain to see that the dark green dress was more glamourous than its owner might have wanted, but the fact her brother and cousin had gone all out meant a lot to her.

                “Well I’d say they did a wonderful job,” Naven offered.

                “Hell yeah they did,” Yoomtah added. “You’re gonna get like, a shitton of confession letters in your locker tomorrow. Do people still do that? Is that still a thing? I’ll throw one in there if it is.”

                Trixie let out an earnest giggle and seemed to relax just a little. She pushed off from the railing and gestured to the side. “Molly and I grabbed a table before she stepped outside to call Percy. W-We can go wait for her there.”

                 Not five seconds after they’d turned to follow her did they practically walk into a familiar trio. Molly Blyndeff waved and gestured to Phoenica and Sylvie.

                “Hey guys, look who I found wandering around outside.”

                “Greetings everyone!” Phoenica shouted, throwing her arms up and sending her purse and hat flying into a nearby group of people. She didn’t notice and promptly threw herself out for a hug. Trixie screamed a very genuine “Aaaaaaa!” that trailed off as Yoomtah caught the girl out of the air and squeezed her tight.

                “Sorry we’re late. Feenie saw a food truck on the way here and insisted we stand in line for half an hour to ‘learn how the other half lives’,” Sylvie explained with a tired smile. “Didn’t even order anything once it was our turn because she was afraid of getting her dress dirty.”

                “It was a learning experience!” Phoenica retorted proudly, apparently immunized against Yoomtah’s bone-crushing embrace by the sheer floofiness of her gown while doing her best to return the gesture. “Throw me to Mister Nuknuk next, Yoomie. Everybody gets hugs when Phoenica is in the house!”

                That was all the warning Naven got before Yoomtah lobbed the Fleecity heiress at him like a volleyball and he scrambled to catch her. Thankfully she was impossibly light, and floated down like a feather while Yoomtah rounded on Sylvie instead.

 

***

 

After hugs were distributed and Phoenica had gotten her fill of being passed around like a beachball, the six of them flopped over to the table Molly had reserved for them with a sextet of oversized teddy bears. They passed the time with idle chatter until someone commandeered the microphone to give a short speech while the DJ got set up and the waiting staff came around to take everyone’s order. Naven was the quietest of the group, and spent most of the time just holding Yoomtah’s hand under the table and looking around at the room. He felt very out of place.

                These were Yoomtah’s friends and classmates at the surrounding tables, not his—he was just her plus-one. Not that it mattered, but it reminded him of his relative age to the people around him. After his defeat and subsequent parole assignment, he had been approached by Xerxes Roughhouse to discuss how they would handle the fallout. His main goal had been to encourage Xerxes, the most composed man he’d ever known, to take the assets that the police had allowed the company to keep and use them to do right by the people who loved their product. Xerxes’ side of the discussion had surprised him.

                _“Yoomtah never had the chance to experience the emotional milestones that go hand-in-hand with growing up, Mr. Nuknuk. It is not my place to counsel people on how they live their lives, but I simply thought to make you aware of the opportunity to make up for lost time.”_

_“Whatever do you mean, Xerxes?”_

_“The company could sponsor her, if she cared to attend a place of education for a few months out of the year, in order to finish what she never had the chance to all those years ago. I’ve spoken to the proper authorities and with Officer King’s support, I do believe we could classify this as ‘rehabilitation’ to hamstring any pending litigation designed to discredit her based on her history or… augmentations.”_

_“I… I see. You’ve put a lot of thought into this, Xerxes.”_

_“A sufficient amount.”_

_“Might I ask why? I mean no offense, but it is unlike you to do the unnecessary, and while this is… very considerate of you, it is unnecessary. Not to mention your rapport with her has historically been… less than—”_

_“She gets on well with my sister, Mr. Nuknuk, and with you, and you all could do well with a larger support network. That is all.”_

_“I see… Thank you, Xerxes.”_

                Yoomtah was prodding him, and Naven realized that the waiter was at their table while everyone stared at him. He laughed sheepishly and asked the man to repeat the specials, then agreed to the first thing he said. Once the waiter had bustled away, Sylvie cut in with a weary laugh.

                “Yoomie said you’re having flashbacks to your last prom,” said the boy. “Well, don’t worry about looking like a total loser. I’ve got the market cornered, and Feenie knows how terrible I am on the dancefloor.”

                “Aw, Sylvie…” Trixie looked genuinely worried by the boy’s self-deprecating humor, but he just waved it off.

                Phoenica pounded the table with her fist, which was barely enough to cause the ice in her drink to wobble. “But you’re _my_ loser, and we’re going to go out there and be huge losers together!” Nobody could stop her from hopping up on top of her chair and shouting to the ceiling. “The most beautiful losers in the entire school!”

                Sylvie just sighed and looked more flattered than embarrassed, while Trixie and Molly went “Awww!” and Yoomtah fell out of her chair laughing. Naven smiled as the dreary boy stood to help his date down before she could jump off the back of the chair and take a full thirty seconds floating back down to the floor, and set about recovering his own date. Yoomtah was already halfway back to her feet, but she put on a good show of letting him do the rest when he knelt down to help her.

                “Thank you, Sylvie,” he said, returning to his seat. “But you forget, I’ve been around for a long time, so all I know are old people dances.”

                “Yuck,” Trixie said.

                “Double yuck,” Molly corroborated.

                “Feenie likes to breakdance,” Sylvie replied, voice totally flat.

                “Get up on my level, bitches,” Phoenica confirmed.

 

***

 

Once food had been consumed and Trixie had revealed that the reason she kept shoving rolls and glasses of iced tea into her bag was because Rook had decided to tag along, and not an undiagnosed case of kleptomania, the group was faced with the fact that the audio equipment had been set up and couples were beginning to filter onto the dancefloor. They shared awkward glances until an upbeat, poppy song began to play, and Phoenica hopped to her feet.

                “From the five seconds I’ve heard, I can tell that this song is at least sixty percent my jam. Come along Sylvie, it’s time we made ourselves known to the masses.” She extended her hand, which Sylvie took, and he followed her to the dance floor.

                “Aren’t you guys gonna dance?” Molly asked.

                “What, and leave the two of you sitting here alone? Fuck that.” Yoomtah grinned. “We’ll wait until you hear something you like.”

                “U-Uh… I’m not really— I mean, I’m just here to support everyone else,” Trixie stammered out.

                “I didn’t bring a date,” Molly said with a shrug. “Feenie was so excited, though, and everyone else was coming, so I wanted to be here.”

                “But you _have_ to dance,” Yoomtah insisted, looking stricken. “Just one? Molly, you can have Naven. Not that I’m trying to decide for anyone, but I really like green, so I figured—”

                “I-It’s okay, really!” Trixie squeaked.

                “I’m afraid it’s not, Trixie.”

                They all whirled to look at the source of the voice and saw Officer Percy King standing against the wall, next to a potted plant, dressed in full ceremonial regalia. She’d won even more commendations since the last time Naven had seen her. Everyone moved to greet her as she stepped around the shrub.

                “Percy! You said you were over in Japantown!” Molly exclaimed.

                “Ah, but you forget, my deputy, that Japantown’s insidious influence has spread so thoroughly across this city that it now occupies nearly as much territory in the west as the east. I was only five or so minutes away when you called.”

                “Percy, what are you doing here?” Trixie asked while hugging the uniformed woman.

Percy smiled and patted the girl’s back. “Well, it’s highly unprofessional, I’ll admit, but it’d been a while since I’d seen you all, so I requested the department loan me to the owners of this venue as security for the night.”

                “It’s good to see you again,” Naven said, extending his hand. Percy gave it a warm shake.

                “You gonna dance, Miss King?” Yoomtah asked with a glint in her eyes.

                “I am afraid not,” Percy replied. “That would be highly improper of me, and though it is not a matter of justice or legality, there are certain rules for these things that must be upheld, such as the rules of the dancefloor.” The woman gently disentangled Trixie from her waist and stood her next to Molly before fixing the pair of them with a serious expression. “You have rented me, walked on me, and eaten near me, so now you must dance on me. Those are the rules of the dancefloor, girls, and I am helpless to do anything other than ask that you uphold them. That is the true meaning of prom night.”

                Nobody questioned this.

                “I-I c-can try—”

                “Well I suppose one dance—”

                “Whoo!” Yoomtah cheered. “Alright Naven, don’t step on Molly’s toes or anything, Trixie and I are heading off!”

                “Wait!” Molly interrupted. She glanced around at everyone, then back at her mentor, who gave an encouraging smile. “Yoomie, you and Naven need to have the first dance together. Trixie and I can dance with each other.”

                “Y-Yeah!”

                Naven was touched. Looking over at Yoomtah, he could see that she was too. Her body was frozen halfway between the motions of jumping for joy and lunging forward to catch as many of her friends as possible in a hug, but she stopped herself and just turned.

                “C’mon, let’s see some of those old man moves you’re so worried about.”

                As they turned to go, Trixie gave him a little wave and a sudden look of seriousness fell over her face. Also she had a crowbar.

                “Get out there and make her the happiest she’s ever been or it’ll be your kneecaps, lover boy,” she said, palming the crowbar threateningly.

                “Trixie!” Molly exclaimed.

                “I’m doing it for love!”

                “I’m afraid I’m going to need that crowbar, Miss Roughhouse,” Percy sighed. “You're handling it improperly and the laws of the dancefloor don’t permit the negligent use of crowbars.”

                “Take it, I can get more,” the tiny Roughhouse grumbled.

 

***

 

Eight songs came and went and Yoomtah decided they both needed a moment to catch their breath. They returned to the table where they sat, red-faced and a little bit giddy. He looked over to Yoomtah. Even dancing as wildly as she had, he couldn’t imagine that she was even the least bit tired. But she was gasping for air the same as him, head lowered, watching the table while grinning and laughing to herself every couple of seconds. Between them, she touched the bridge of his knuckles before slowly pushing herself back to her feet.

                “Ready for round two?” he asked.

                “Not yet,” she smiled. “I’m going to hit the powder room. I uh…” she looked to Percy, who had returned to her post against the wall. “Officer King? Could I get you to come with me? There’s some stuff the stylist warned me about that’s easier to rig up with two people, so…”

                “Of course, Miss Zing,” Percy said with a nod before turning to Naven. “Consider yourself deputized, Mister Nuknuk. Watch the room and I’ll have her back to you before you know it.”

                “Take care, you two,” Naven said, offering a salute.

                Yoomtah snickered and pranced off with Percy in tow, leaving him to his thoughts. Not that he had terribly much time to get introspective, which was probably a good thing, because Sylvie staggered over and collapsed into a seat.

                “I take it your date is also many times the superior dancer,” Naven said.

                “Auuuuuugh,” was Sylvie’s only response for the better part of a minute, until he worked up the strength to fix his posture and look him in the eyes. “Did you know that half of the time, she can’t even open a can of soda by herself? But put on some music and suddenly she’s throwing out moves that Zora couldn’t dream of. My _spine_ hurts.”

                “Speaking of, where is your lovely lady love?” Naven asked, chuckling as the smaller boy gave him a halfhearted death-glare.

                “Having a dance-battle against some old guy she met in the lobby. Said that he looked like a guy she once knew and it turned into this whole—”

                A sudden swell of cheering drowned Sylvie out and they both turned to see where the crowd had gathered just in time to hear Phoenica yell—

                “My gods, is that a unicycle!?”

                “Hoho, young lady, is that the best you’ve got?”

                “In the words of my esteemed late uncle, whose name shall not be given as ordered by the courts, _the firmest of no’s, you magnificent fossil, now hold my drink_!”

                The heiress squeezed her way out through the crowd and ran back to the table, hair askew, quintuple-layered gown a mess, wearing—

                “Feenie, are you— are those brass knuckles?” Sylvie exclaimed. He began to pat her down but she grabbed his hands and stared right into his eyes.

                “He has a unicycle, Sylvester. A unicycle.”

                “A unicycle,” he repeated, looking genuinely unnerved. “Are you about to go full Phoenica on someone again? Because I don’t know if—”

                Feenie let go of one of Sylvie’s hands to retrieve the parasol she’d left hanging from the back of her chair. “I need a sheep, Sylvie, and all the silverware and nine-volt batteries you can carry.”

                “I—”

                The blonde stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss before spinning on her heels and sprinting back off the way she came.

                “Stand back everyone, Feenie’s about to do _the big thing_!”

                “I just… but I—” Sylvie touched his cheek, then looked down at his hand, then over to Naven, who just smiled and shrugged, and then screamed. “She’s so weird, Naven! She’s _so_ weird! And I love her! Auuuuugh!” And having said all he could, Sylvester Ashling ran off in the direction of the kitchen, still screaming.

 

***

 

Yoomtah and Percy returned just as the lights dimmed and the DJ announced that it was time for the “sloooow dance” to begin. He rose and moved to meet them as Percy returned to her spot on the wall, giving them a nod of encouragement as they moved back out to the dancefloor. Something seemed different about Yoomtah. At first Naven couldn’t put his finger on it, and scanned her hair, then her makeup, and all of the usual things people changed when they said that they needed to “freshen up,” but he couldn’t find anything. It was only when they reached an open patch in the middle of the dancefloor and she moved her arms to his shoulders that he realized it. She looked exhausted.

                “Yoomtah— Yoomie, you look exhausted, what’s wrong? We can sit down, here, I’ll carry—”

                “I got Officer King to drain most of my power reserves into one of her wizard towers.”

                “What? Why?”

                “Robot senses, you know?” Her voice was a murmur as she leaned forward to rest her head in the crook of his neck. “…don’t care about tracking the movements of everyone in the room, or being able to swing dance for the two of us. I just want to lean on you for a bit, only have one process running in my brain… so you lead, okay?”

                “I…” he choked on his words for a moment. “Okay.”

                He began to lead.

                “Gods, I’m going to make us look _so_ lame,” he couldn’t help but laugh.

                “I’m sure the others will take pictures.”

                It was a long, slow dance, because when sometimes when you’re doing something you enjoy, the world is courteous enough to slow down instead of speed up.

                “Another song?” he asked when the first one ended.

                “Mhm.”

 

***

 

They danced until Yoomtah was practically limp on her feet and Naven had to help her wrap one arm around his shoulders so he could walk her back to the table. There, everyone gave them wide grins before noticing the pink-haired girl’s condition and moving back as Percy knelt down to return the energy she’d given away. The uniformed woman placed both hands on the floor, summoned a quarry which swallowed up Yoomtah, chair and all, before bidding one of her wizard towers to rise up out of the coals. A quick burst of electricity later and Yoomtah burst out of the pit which vanished in a puff of smoke. Only the couple at the nearest table seemed to notice, and they took one look at Trixie who was making a stabbing motion with her salad fork before looking away.

                “Feeling better?” he asked.

                “Better?” Yoomtah echoed, grinning ear to ear, voice recalibrated to its usual giddy loudness. “I feel like I just got swept off my feet by the man of my dreams in front of everyone. I feel _amazing_! That was—” Her thoughts went incomplete as she leaned forward to give him a peck on the lips before springing into a sudden hug.

                Naven could only return the embrace with a big stupid smile on his face.

                “I’m glad I could be the one you wanted to have that memory with.”

                “Awww,” proclaimed everyone except Sylvie, who just gave him a thumbs-up, and Percy, who nodded approvingly before suddenly looking off to the side and waving someone over. The group turned to see Giovanni walking around the edge of the room, Giorno in tow.

                “Giovanni! Giorno!” Trixie squeaked, breaking away from the table to run over and stand before them. “Y-You’re all dressed up!”

                “Indeed, very dapper,” Percy said, eyebrow raised.

                “Positively refined,” Naven couldn’t help but chime in.

                Giovanni rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and offered a half-smile. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. This prom stuff is for kids, but I figured that, you know… would be cool to check out my handiwork… and grab a picture for you know, me and Xerxes, Rick, Ramsey… that Mera girl too and that other guy. Basically everyone who couldn’t make it, you know? Condoriano especially.” He shrugged. “And… Giorno wanted to help out.” There was more than a little pride in his voice as he looked back at his son, who was picking at the shoulder of his oversized suit jacket and just completely ruining it.

                “Friends should help—friends whenever possible. Right—Trixie and everyone?” Giorno asked.

                They all agreed.

                “I wish they could be here,” Molly lamented once Giovanni had used up the film in all three of the cameras he’d brought. “Trixie and I sent out invitations to everyone, but they all had stuff to do.”

                “Uh…” Giovanni rubbed the back of his head again. “Yeah, like…” He frowned. “I uh… could only really get in touch with Ramsey to ask if he could make it, and he just said that you kids needed to be looking at each other on date night, not his ugly mug—his words, not mine—and he gave me these.” He held out his hand. “...hairpins for the girls and cufflinks for the guys. I tried to get here sooner, but uh…” He shook his head. “Just… you know, stuff… anti-hero… I’m real sorry.”

                “It’s fine, Giovanni,” Trixie said, taking one of the gold hairpins as he walked between everyone to hand them out. “I love it.”

                “Yeah!”

                “Me too.”

                “Oh my, for me too? But he hasn’t even met me!”

                “He’d love you, Feenie. He’s great with kids.”

                “Even me?”

                “Even the two of us, Sylvie,” Naven chuckled, taking his cufflinks last.

                “Oh, and uh…” Giovanni shoved his hands into his pockets. “I know that like… I mean I couldn’t get in touch with him, Rick, I mean, but like… we all know he _wants_ to be here.” The tall, young man ran a hand through his hair and offered them a sympathetic look. “But like… you all mean a lot to him, and in a place like this, filled with people, with a dancefloor and everything… he’s probably just worried about showing off and regaining some of that proficiency he’s been trying to get rid of. I promise I’ll find a way to get him this picture, though.” He finished with an uncomfortable shrug.

                A silent beat followed, and the man turned to leave when Molly suddenly spoke up.

                “Giorno!”

                The mechanical boy turned and tried to cock his head to the side, but ended up stumbling slightly as he swung too much of his momentum to one side.

                “Yes—Molly?”

                “You’re all dressed up,” she walked over and held out a hand. “How about a dance?”

                “A—dance?” Giorno tilted his head and turned to Giovanni. “What do—I do—Father?”

                For the first time in as long as Naven or anyone else had known him, Giovanni’s expression was completely lost. He stared for a moment, then, stammering, walked over and placed his hands on his son’s shoulders.

                “N-No advice, son. J-Just go out there and listen to Molly, okay?”

                Giorno nodded.

                “I—understand.”

                “C’mon, I’ll teach you some easy steps,” Molly said, leading him away.

                Giovanni watched them go for a moment, then turned to face the group. He looked like he was about to cry, and Naven caught a glimpse of a smile as the man hurried to wipe his face on his sleeve.

                “C-Camera, I need— does anyone have a—”

                “Abby gave me her old one before she went overseas to chase yeti-spooks,” Trixie said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a gigantic old bellows camera. “Here—”

                “N-No,” Giovanni said, backing away when she moved to hand it to him. “I-I’m going to go. I won’t be the parent that s-stands around crying during their kid’s first real dance like some kind of weirdo. W-Walk him home for me?”

                “I can arrange for a ride,” Percy said, nodding to the man with a smile. “After the dance, or whenever everyone disperses. Rest assured, Mister Potage.”

                Giovanni returned the smile and allowed himself one quick look at where Molly was leading Giorno through a simple four-step before running out of the room. Trixie scuttled off to find a good angle, and the rest of them just watched for a little while until Sylvie banged his hand on the table.

                “Feenie! Let’s dance!”

                “My, what’s brought this on?” the heiress asked, forming first a small smile, then a larger one as her date sprang to his feet, more animated than he’d been all night.

                “I don’t know!”

                “Ah yes, befuddlement and the inexplicable urge to bust moves, that’s the Phoenica guarantee!”

                Naven laughed and watched them go, then turned to Yoomtah, who’d been quiet the entire time and was dabbing at her eyes with a napkin.

                “Yoomie?”

                “Yeah?”

                “There’s one or two more dances left.”

                “Yeah.”

                “Want to take the lead this time?”

                “Yeah!”

 

***

 

Eventually, the music wound down. It was past midnight, the hotel was still technically a hotel, the prom-goers were technically still children, and a quiet din settled over the hall as people began to leave in twos and fours. Their table for six had become seven, with Giorno seated next to Molly and Trixie, then eight, once they managed to convince Percy that she’d be more effective if she rested her legs every once in a while, then six again when Percy noticed the worried messages Giovanni had been bombarding her with and offered to take Giorno home.

                “Thank you everyone—I had a wonder—ful time.”

                “You did great Giorno.”

                “Yeah!”

                “You must absolutely come out with us again. Every eight-character roster needs some manner of dancing robot, I’ve read it a thousand times!”

                “Oh my god you’re so _perfectly_ weird!”

                “Did Sylvie just hit his head against his plate so hard he knocked himself out?”

                “ _Squaaawk_! Rook’s here too! And he smells blood!”

                “Ah, yes, the old Thanksgiving maneuver. I suppose I’ll take him home as well, if you don’t mind, Miss Fleecity?”

                “Oh, not at all. Can I come too? I’ve always wanted to ride in the back of a squad car like some kind of common _criminal_.”

                And with just the four of them left, Naven made the suggestion that they go and enjoy the view of the river a little before the staff had to kick them out so that they could start cleaning. Everyone agreed, and he wandered over, listening to the three of them chatter and laugh about people they knew and things that everyone would be talking about at school.

                “Earth to Naaaaven,” Yoomtah sang, prodding him in the chest.

                “Hey now, I was listening this time,” he responded with a laugh. “You were talking about corny highschool date movies and all of the big dumb gestures the characters make at the end.”

                “Yes, we were.” Yoomtah flashed a predatory grin. “So, got anything like that up your sleeve? Super big and super flashy and suuuuper dumb?” She could barely contain her laughter while Molly and Trixie also leaned forward, staring holes through him.

                “I’m afraid nothing quite that grandiose,” Naven chuckled sheepishly. “I’ve sworn off spectacle for the foreseeable future. I’d only thought to propose another date to you on the way home, and the assurance that the dress you put so much work into needn’t get buried in your closet to never be worn again.”

                “Awww!”

                “That’s… pretty good,” Yoomtah laughed. “And I’m glad, because I went ahead and put together a big dumb thing, and it’d be a real mess if we had conflicting agendas right now. How fast can you run?”

                He blinked.

                “Come again?”

                Yoomtah’s smile widened.

                “You. Me. Rooftop.” She pointed over in the direction of the skyscraper they’d called home. “Half an hour. Xerxes and I buried the hatchet to make this happen, so don’t keep me waiting, ‘kay?”

                He didn’t have a chance to respond, because with all of the grace of… well, Yoomtah, she leapt over the railing and plunged into the river. A trail of churning water charted her course as she made a beeline for the opposite shore, cackling as she leapt in and out of the water like some sort of maniacal salmon. Nearly a minute passed as the three of them just watched her go, and then—

                “You’re on a deadline, you know,” Molly said, nudging his side.

                “Don’t keep her waiting,” Trixie added, brandishing an enormous wrench from somewhere. “Otherwise we’re gonna have a problem, and Percy’s gotta sleep sometime, so I’ll find my opportunity.”

                “Trixie!” Molly exclaimed.

                Naven laughed warmly and stepped forward, hugging them both. Molly looked surprised, but returned the gesture. Trixie did the same, but with more growling. He pulled away and looked at them both.

                “Yes, of course. The love of my life is waiting for me, so I’d best get going—” he paused, then took a moment to gauge the distance between himself, the two of them, and the door, and decided it was better to start running before saying it.

                “Later looooosers!”

                It really was a perfect night.

                “Molly give me the gun.”

                “Yeah sure.”


End file.
